


Make 'Em Laugh

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Category: EXO (Band), LEDApple
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Comedians, Alternate Universe - Kid's Show Host, Dirty Jokes, Gen, Sock Puppets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2013-09-14
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LEDApple's Hanbyul walks into a club and meets... EXO's Chanyeol! Hanbyul's looking for some fresh blood for the SNL Korea cast. Chanyeol's got a puppet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make 'Em Laugh

"How'd it go?"

Hanbyul's cheeks hurt from laughing all night and he's pretty sure he's got a bruise on his knee from where he walked into a set piece in the dark between sketches, but he still manages to greet Eric with a smile when he slides onto his regular corner stool. "Good. Really good."

"You look beat. Surprised to see you." Eric pushes a vodka tonic across the bar, tosses a lemon slice in, almost as an afterthought. "It's late tonight."

"Yeah. Meeting with the producers to talk numbers ran long." Hanbyul takes a long pull of his drink and sighs happily. "I don't know why they don't do it Monday mornings—lazy fucks like to sleep in, I guess."

"So do you," Eric reminds him. "Still looking for new talent?"

"God yeah. Always. Why, you thinking about auditioning? You're pretty funny, man, but you can't just be ugly, you've got to be able to make jokes, too."

Eric rolls his eyes. "No—we've got some good acts tonight. Maybe you'll find what you're looking for."

Hanbyul looks at his phone. It's closer to two than one. "Fuck, man. Really? They're going on this late?"

"It's Saturday night. Do you have something better to do?"

The whine that comes out of Hanbyul's mouth is more befitting a small child than an adult. "Come on, my bed—it's calling my name."

"And yet you came here instead," Eric points out. "You always do this. Why are you surprised?"

He's got a point. Hanbyul hates it when Eric has a point. He grunts against the rim of the glass, swivels around to survey the crowd. It's decently packed—a few empty chairs here and there but every table is occupied. There's some shitty punk song at maxed out levels blasting through the club's sound system and the stage is ready from the previous set but it's dark for the moment. A stool, a mic in its stand. Hanbyul hasn't done much stand-up recently but he remembers the weight of the stand, heavy in his wrist as he'd tip the base away from him in the middle of a one-liner, wait a beat. Drop the punchline like he's throwing it away, like it doesn't even matter. Ripples of laughter, like the stutter of shallow water over rocks. Repeat.

He remembers a mentor he had back when he was in college, one of the old guys in the business: _Don't ask for the laugh and don't be proud of yourself if they give it to you—people'll laugh at fuckin' anything. Somebody falling up the stairs doesn't mean they're a comedic genius, it means they're fuckin' clumsy."_

Eric interrupts his train of thought. "You'll never guess who's going on tonight." Hanbyul turns. He's more interested than he wants to let on, drains his glass and nudges it, sans coaster, back to Eric's side of the bar.

"I'm not playing a guessing game with you. Tell me."

Eric takes the glass. "I'll give you a hint."

"Give me another drink and just tell me," Hanbyul insists. "You are terrible at this game. You drop stupid hints that make no sense. You're the hipster of hints. A hintster."

"For the sake of your career, I wouldn't repeat that one," Eric recommends. "Is this why people write the jokes for you now? Alright, one hint. If you can't get it then I'll tell you. If you get it, drinks are on me the rest of the night."

"Fine. What's the hint?"

"It's a visual one." Eric bounces up on his toes to see over the crowd of people, shades his eyes with a flat hand and squints.

The song transitions out to some top forty thing that'd blazed up the charts back in February. Hanbyul vaguely recognizes it. The artist had been a guest last season. Real charming dickbag. "Man, I hate this guy—did I ever tell you—"

"There!" Eric cuts off Hanbyul's story. "Just came out of the bathroom. Jacket with the rolled-up sleeves."

Hanbyul frowns for a moment, ready to concede—until a scratchy, piping voice floats into his head unbidden and he gasps. "Holy shit, is that—"

"Yeah."

"Park Chanyeol. Holy shit. He's—does his manager know he's here?"

Eric points. "Do Kyungsoo. Little guy down in front."

" _Shit_. I love that fucking show," Hanbyul enthuses. "Have you seen it? He's got this puppet—Fritz, who's a dog, and Fritz has a bunch of friends, and every week centers around a theme—I had no idea he did stand-up, I figured he was some tutor who landed a sweet gig." He studies the stunned expression on Eric's face for a moment and lifts a shoulder as if to say, _you're the one missing out_. "No, really. I love that fucking show, it's always on when I get up in the morning."

"Morning? It's on after noon. And of course you do. You're squarely in the two-to-five demographic they're aiming for."

Hanbyul laughs, rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "No, but seriously—his voices are good! I think he does them all, too. There's Fritz, and then Meiko, the husky, and uh—there's a new one, a cat, I think. Chen."

Eric stares. 

"What? It's good. You're missing out." Hanbyul raps his knuckles against the bar. "Less judging more pouring me another drink, alright?"

 

The first guy doesn't go on until nearly quarter-to, stumbles through his routine like he wrote it on the subway on the way to the gig. It's not funny. There's a polite smattering of applause, some booing from the guys at the other end of the bar, and then it's Chanyeol's turn. Hanbyul leans forward, eager with anticipation. Eric abandons the drink orders he's been filling to lean across the surface and join Hanbyul, propped up on his elbows to watch.

Chanyeol's deliberate. Sets his water on the stool, adjusts the mic stand to his impressive height with some difficulty—Hanbyul remembers that, the awkward fumbling, the sweating, the pang of humiliation flushing your cheeks rosy pink when someone from the audience offers to come help. _In the struggle between comedian and microphone, the microphone's never going to let you win. Learn it now._

He's got a good stage presence, though. He's tall but not imposing, this kind of easy slump like the stand's the only thing keeping him from sitting down cross-legged in the middle of the stage. He talks like he's entertaining a room of his best friends, paces in a tight figure eight bathed in the warm spotlight that makes him look more like one of Michelangelo's angels than some guy talking about getting his dick sucked in public.

"No, it's cool having a little guy as a manager—someone that size helps me relate to the kids." The audience chuckles. Chanyeol beams and continues. Hanbyul recognizes the glint in his eyes, the recognition that he's got them on the hook. He's just winding up for the pitch. "Kyungsoo's a lifesaver, too—I'm pretty forgetful. Yeah, I walk out of the house without Fritz all the time. If I didn't have Kyungsoo around, I'd be doing half my shows with a sock instead of Fritz. But sometimes I get them mixed up," Chanyeol says, crossing an arm in front of his chest. "One's cute and fluffy and doesn't talk unless my hand's up his ass—and one's a German shepherd puppet."

The club roars. Hanbyul chokes on an ice cube. "Shit," he croaks when Eric leans over to thump him on the back. "He's sitting right there—"

"Don't worry. Kyungsoo's used to this," Eric whispers back, grinning.

"I'm sorry, Kyungsoo—I know, I know, I said I wouldn't tell. It was one time, you guys, it's not like—don't worry about it. Not that I haven't tried, you know, doing it again," Chanyeol says, grinning. "It's the one time I've ever heard him say nice things about me."

"Oh my _God_ ," Hanbyul breathes. "He's—what the hell, where has he been? How did he end up working on a _kid's_ show?"

"—I know it's late. Thank you everybody for sticking around!" Chanyeol bows a few times and bounds off the stage where Kyungsoo's waiting for him. Hanbyul watches with interest as Kyungsoo hands Chanyeol a napkin to mop the perspiration from the side of his face and then sinks a balled fist into the soft of Chanyeol's stomach. He's laughing.

"Huh. That's an odd couple," Hanbyul says. Eric follows his gaze and chuckles.

"Don't be fooled by his size—Kyungsoo's got a backbone of steel. You do not fuck with Chanyeol when Kyungsoo's around." He steps back. "Here's your chance to recruit him so you can stop whining to be about the shitty talent pool in this city."

"Hey—" Hanbyul starts.

"It's fucking Seoul, for Christ's sake, we're not out in the country. You mean to tell me you can't find a single person?" He shakes his head. "I think you're just too picky."

"Hey, it's _hard_. It's not just telling jokes—you need chemistry with the cast for it to flow. It's physical comedy, it's timing, it's—"

"Yeah, yeah. Spare me this lecture, I'm never going to find sketch comedy poetic." Eric sets out two coasters and places twin pints of beer on them just in time for Kyungsoo and Chanyeol to take their seats. "Nice job tonight, Chanyeol. I like the stuff you've added since last time."

"Thanks," Chanyeol grins. Hanbyul watches him, face split in two by a gleaming set of white teeth. "Kyungsoo kept telling me it was going to backfire—I kept telling him, how many parents are we going to have in the audience at two in the morning?"

"You should listen to him more," Eric teases Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes.

"Don't encourage him. He already thinks he's not an idiot."

"Good thing I've got you around to remind me," Chanyeol intones, raising his glass. "Thank God that's over and nobody died." Kyungsoo clinks the rim of his drink against Chanyeol's. A little beer sloshes over his hand in the process.

"Damn it, Chanyeol—"

"You were the one who spilled it!" Chanyeol puts his glass down. "Here, come here, I'll clean it up—"

"You're not fucking _licking_ me like last time. That's gross—"

Hanbyul's been watching and sees this as his in. "Here," he says, holding out a fistful of napkins. "No licking necessary, use these."

"Thanks," Chanyeol says absent-mindedly. He doesn't look up to accept the napkins, so it takes him a moment before he realizes he's just been handed a stack of napkins by Jang Hanbyul, Saturday Night Live Korea cast member. Hanbyul _knows_ he's been recognized, sees the shock register in Chanyeol's face.

"You're—"

"Yes. Hi." He puts his hand out. "I'm Hanbyul. You had a good set tonight."

Chanyeol's mouth flaps wordlessly. He looks a little like a giant fish, eyes stretched wide and round with surprise. Kyungsoo cuts in smoothly.

"He's a big fan, trust me. He really likes the cross-dressing skit you do, where you're the leader of that girl idol group?"

"Young Ladies Era?"

"That's the one."

Chanyeol fails to hide a snort behind his hand.

"Well, who knows. Maybe we'll need a new member. How comfortable are you in heels?"

"Please. I'm so comfortable, I was the one who taught my sister how to walk in them," he replies without missing a beat. And then: "Wait. Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack." Hanbyul pulls a card from his wallet and scribbles his phone number on the back. "Look—we've been running auditions—"

"See, I told you. You should've let me make some calls," Kyungsoo hisses, taking the card from Hanbyul. He squints at it for a moment, inspecting it. "Is this legit? You're not just—if I call this number I'll get you, and we'll get something set up for him?"

"Call me first thing Monday morning," Hanbyul confirms. "He's funny as hell, I'm really surprised you're not more popular on the scene. I had no idea you did stand-up."

"Not a lot of people do," Chanyeol admits. "It's—you know, the kid's show... it looks bad if I'm talking to kids about making friends during the day, and then—well, you heard my set tonight." He shrugs. "Plus, it's hard getting out on weeknights to do these sets when I've got to be up at the asscrack to get to the studio."

"Is this something you've been interested in?" Hanbyul asks. "I mean, the kid's show—I know you're a professional, but is it... seriously..." he trails off, struggling for the right way to phrase it. "Is children's programming something you want to pursue long-term?"

"Fuck no," Chanyeol blurts, shaking his head. "I mean—I like my job enough, I guess, but this—" He points at the card between Kyungsoo's fingers. "This is a dream come true. I can't even—pinch me, will you?"

Kyungsoo socks him in the shoulder instead.

"Good. Good," Hanbyul nods. "I'll—make sure to talk to the producer. I really think this could work out."

Kyungsoo glances at his watch. "I'll be back. I need to use the bathroom." He looks at Chanyeol. "You okay? We'll head out after you're done talking."

"Yeah. What, you think I'm going to be abducted or something?"

"I'm not too worried about that. I know they'd bring you right back when they realized you never shut your mouth."

Hanbyul laughs. "Maybe you should come audition, too."

Kyungsoo wrinkles his nose. "Please. Somebody's got to babysit this guy." He jerks his thumb in Chanyeol's direction. "Stop him getting into trouble, chewing things. You know. The usual."

"I'm not a puppy," Chanyeol protests.

"No, you're an overgrown toddler with a weird oral fixation." Kyungsoo flashes a sly smile. "Alright. I'll be back."

They sit for a moment in relative silence, the drone of another comedian's set behind them. Hanbyul looks over at Chanyeol and smiles at how nervous he seems.

"Relax. You already impressed me."

"You're not fucking with me, are you? Because, I mean, I'm just a shitty public television—I mean, I really look up to you and I know I'm on some crappy local access—"

"No, no," Hanbyul assures him. "I'm serious about this. We've been auditioning people for weeks and there are some funny people out there, but—your timing, man. And you're not afraid to go for it." He tips his head, considering whether or not he wants to drop this particular bomb. _Ah fuck it, why not:_ "Also, we could always use someone who does impressions—your voices are hilarious. Chen's? Kills me."

Chanyeol's eyes pop a little bit. "You—watch the show?" he asks, voice meek. He covers his face with his hands. "I'm—really embarrassed right now."

Hanbyul laughs. "Eric tells me I'm the one that should be embarrassed for watching it, but. You're good. I think you'd fit in. The only thing is—I don't know how this would affect your show."

Chanyeol nods slowly. "I'll have to talk to Kyungsoo about it."

"But please, come in on Monday and audition anyway," Hanbyul says hastily. "There's—I'm sure there's a way to juggle things if you want to do both. Not long-term, I mean, but—a transition period."

"I mean—doing real comedy's been a dream of mine. I don't want to leave the show stranded without a new guy, so I'll have to take care of that first, but. I—wow. Just. Wow."

"Wow doesn't tell me anything other than you're realizing how good-looking I am in person. Say—thank you and you'll do it and I'll see you Monday." Hanbyul gets to his feet, stretches his arms over his head. If he was tired before, he's exhausted now—excited, filled with anticipation over the new cast member (he'll make the cast—there's no doubt in his mind), but still exhausted.

Chanyeol blinks, eyes riveted to the card in his hands. "I—thank you. Thank you so much." His cheeks are flushed, still warm from the stage lights, but there's a pleased glow that radiates off of him as he thrusts his hand out to shake Hanbyul's. "I'll do it. I'll see you Monday."

Hanbyul nods with satisfaction. "Good." He turns to leave, thinks of something, and turns back around. "Nice show tonight, by the way." He sees the way Chanyeol colors an even deeper pink and dips his chin into the collar of his shirt and thinks he's glad he stopped in for a drink tonight.


End file.
